Little Soldier
by Rikku Ronso
Summary: Teagan waits for the Warden to return, and remembers their past meetings. Female CouslandxTeagan.


Well this is my first Dragon Age: Origins fanfic, and to be honest, the first thing I have written in a long, long time. I am by no means a writer, so I hope you can excuse any mistakes in grammar or writing don'ts haha. I'm not selling myself very well am I? Haha!

Anyway here it is, TeaganxFemale Cousland - I'd say it is one sided on his part, but my Cousland always flirts with Teagan... xD

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><p>Bann Teagan Guerrin looked at the silver plate armour in front of him, and traced the markings lightly with his fingertips. The crest of Redcliffe was emblazoned upon the metal, although the icon had been altered to reflect the colours of Rainesfere - Teagan's bannorn. He wondered if she would notice this, and realise the significance of it, or just take the armour and leave - she had hung around the castle long enough he suspected - probably too long. He was well aware how much time and effort the Warden had spared for him and his family, and, though it pained him to admit it, he understood she had other missions to attend to.<br>Still, he had enjoyed the time she had visited, or at least, those moments where neither had been caught up in grief or danger. Selfish as it was, Teagan had come to enjoy having reason to be in her company - despite the situations that had led to it. Eamon was better now, Teagan reasoned, and so perhaps he could fully appreciate her presence in the castle.  
>She had been of great aid to his family, going beyond the call of duty to spare his brother, his family, and his men from the deepest darkness in Thedas, and, he admitted foolishly, he partly hoped he was the reason she had done so.<p>

The Warden was bright and young, yet strong and determined. It would have been easier for her to walk away, give up Eamon's help and turn to another - yet she had soldiered on, fighting through the village, the castle, and now she had returned having doing the unthinkable. This tiny woman barely out of her teenage years had returned to Redcliffe with Andraste's Ashes.  
>Teagan's heart had leapt when he had heard she had returned to the castle, although he had already accepted that her return would be marred by the truth - the ashes were just a myth. However, as she always did, she had surprised him and saved him at the same time. She was down in the village now, waiting for Eamon to be informed of the past troubles, taking the time to collect supplies and report on some finished missions. Teagan smiled to himself - she always seemed to take on as much as she could, he had even caught her eyeing the Chantry board whilst waiting for nightfall that first evening. Anything for extra coin, perhaps.<br>With that thought, Teagan turned back to the armour set and smiled hopefully.

The first day they had met had been a cold one, the air heavy yet empty still. The Chantry was virtually silent, the previous night's loss still fresh in the minds of the survivors. It was no wonder then that the loud stomping and clattering of a group of 'eclectic' strangers entering caused Teagan to look over in shock. Stood before him was a face he had not seen in many years, Alistair - the bastard prince - and with him a group of travellers, weary from the mountain walk. Teagan took a moment to look at each of them in turn, a golem adorned with crystals, a tattooed elf, and then a female warrior.  
>Teagan took longer to examine her, watching her approach him with great interest. From an outsiders perspective her appearance was almost humourous - a small, delicate looking lady dressed head to toe in heavy armour - armour adorned with a Grey Warden crest. Was she a Warden? Her hair was a deep dark brown, and was scraped back in a practical, if a little messy, ponytail. She seemed to walk with her head down, and as she grew closer he noticed her sea blue eyes were tired, puffy and red. Had she been crying?<br>Teagan had had no more opportunity that evening to find out, as after some quick pleasantries with Alistair, he had moved on to the danger Redcliffe faced. The walking dead were pouring out of the castle at night, and as each night passed, more and more joined them - those who perished protecting the village rose again the following evening to destroy it instead.  
>He realised he had pushed his luck by asking for her aid when her brow furrowed, but following a quick discussion with Alistair, it was decided that the lady would remain in Redcliffe for the evening to aid him. Teagan had been beyond thankful, it was as though the Maker and Andraste had decided together that he had deserved his own saviour, and had sent the Warden themselves.<br>Looking at her again, he had realised that her face was one he recognised, one of a noble.  
>"It's true, I am Raine Cousland." She smiled slightly, and he bowed in response.<br>Raine was the daughter of a Teyrn, a Teyrn that was missing at the last meeting in Denerim. When Teagan mentioned this however, the lady's smile contorted, before she spat out a name.  
>"Howe." She snarled, "Traitorous bastard, just like Loghain."<br>Teagan couldn't help but be slightly glad - he had believed himself to be the only person in Ferelden to openly contest Loghain's regency - perhaps in Raine and her party he had found common ground. The lady's face was peaceful again, and she brushed a strand of unkempt hair back behind her ear. She was pretty, very pretty, he admitted to himself bashfully. If the night had been any other, perhaps they could have had a more interesting discussion, but as it had turned out, fate had thrown them together at Redcliffe's worst time.

That night she had battled hard for his brothers arling, and saved it and its people from certain death. There was only one casualty that evening, the town's mayor Murdock, yet there were more pressing matters at the castle.  
>Teagan recalled how she had insisted on following him into the castle, and how she had been the one to take him on in battle when Connor's possession had led him to turn on her.<br>He had known what he was doing, but had been unable to control himself, and as he stood up to turn his blade on her, Teagan remembered her battle cries.  
>"Teagan, please, I know you are in there!"<br>It wasn't until he received the handle of her longsword to his face that he had been able to respond. As she helped him to his feet, he remembered meeting her gaze, and her eyes darting away, full of guilt. He had hoped, now that it was all over, he could tell her that he hadn't blamed her - as that day, yet again, he was denied the chance to talk to the delicate little soldier in front of him.

Isolde had brought an apostate into Eamon's home, and now her son had been made an abomination. The room turned cold as Jowan explained the nature of the possession, and how he could get around it.  
>Filled with anger, Teagan turned on Isolde - it had been her fault after all - she had invited the blood mage into their home, her secrecy had been Redcliffe's downfall. Raine had spent the majority of the conversation watching them, her eyes darting back and forth, a pained expression written across her face. Teagan had wondered back then why it was that she had been so keen to help them.<br>For a split second he had hoped it was because of him, although common sense told him she was more likely to be out to please Alistair - who also treated Eamon as family - more than she would be to please him. It was only later, when Teagan had enquired about her to Alistair, that he had discovered that her willingness to help was due to her own past. Her family had been torn apart from the inside by someone they had trusted too, and it had hurt her to watch the Guerrins fall apart in the same way.

She had turned on her heel, resolve in her heart, and sword in hand, and rushed out of the castle gates - intent on asking for the Tower's help. Teagan regretted not asking her if she wanted anything, or insisting she rest, or offering her men as aid. She had been weary upon first meeting her, and now, the following day and several battles later, he had sent her marching across Lake Calenhad in search of aid for a family that wasn't even hers. He admired her wholeheartedly. She was a brave and strong woman, his own saviour.

The second time they met, two days later, she looked entirely different. Her hair washed and cleaned, it fell and curled around her shoulders, which were adorned with fur pauldrons. The Warden armour was gone, replaced with a figure hugging dress, decorated with fangs, lace and beading. When she entered the grand hall, he had first thought her Chasind, yet on his second look realised she was the beautiful warden he had met not long ago. She stepped toward him, Alistair beside her as usual, and smiled.  
>"The mages got her before us?" She asked, although she didn't seem surprised.<br>Perhaps she had hoped that by the time she arrived, the ritual would have been completed and Eamon awoken. Teagan had regretted his decision to wait almost instantly - her blushing cheeks reminding him of who and what she was. She was young, in her early twenties, and no matter how her noble father had raised her, he had no doubt she was tired and intimidated by her leadership status. Hundreds of decisions had been thrown at her daily, and she had taken them on without losing her smile. She was a strong little lady indeed, he smiled.

The ritual had made him nervous, and while they waited for her mage companion to awake from the Fade, Teagan had tried to make small talk with her. She had taken it in her stride - perhaps she had been grateful of the distraction, he had concluded. He had asked her about her journeys, how the trip to Lake Calenhad had been, why the Circle had owed her their aid. Sounds emanated from upstairs, and silence fell in the hall once again, a painful silence that seemed to last hours. Teagan remembered watching the Warden, her long fingers dancing along with each other as she played with her hands. She was anxious, he could tell.  
>His thoughts returned to her previous visit, he had wanted to thank her, the image of her fighting in the village still fresh in his mind. Today she looked completely different, her body not drenched in metal like before. Teagan had realised then just how lovely her figure was, something he had not had the chance to think about when they had last met. Turning to her, he had asked her about the armour, it had looked special - what happened to it?<p>

"It was, it was ancient, from an old Warden's keep." She nodded knowledgeably, before continuing. "I...I had to sell it. Lake Calenhad has returned to normal again, and they charged to traverse it. I needed to get across to ask for help, so I sold my armour to the inn keeper there."

Taken aback, Teagan had remained silent for the remainder of the ritual. All this, for strangers? All this for them?

Teagan remembered desperately wanting to thank her, yet there never seemed to be the right moment - and when it did - 'thank you' just never seemed to be enough. The Warden's party had decided to stay at the castle that night, and attend the funeral services the following day. Teagan was grateful, not only for the support, but also because he intended to ask her for help once again. That evening they gathered in the dining hall and the castle's survivors ate together, hoping to distract themselves from the terror they had just faced. The young lady had sat herself next to Alistair, and they chatted away, seemingly glad for a filling meal. Teagan watched her in awe - she had done so much and yet still managed to remain smiling.  
>He tried his best to memorise her smile - it was fresh and beautiful, and contagious. The following day would be a difficult one, he knew all too well, and he had hoped to remain strong for the villagers.<p>

It turned out that she would help him again. She was the only one of her group to accompany him to the village to watch the villagers mourn their dead. Boats full of bodies were slowly pushed out onto the lake, and soldiers still weary from defending the castle launched flaming arrows into the air after them. The air was thick with regret, pain etched on the faces of the villagers.  
>Teagan frowned - if he had been a better leader, if he had gone into the castle sooner...A hand gripped his elbow, and his thoughts were interrupted. He looked down at the lady beside him, and their eyes met for a moment, before he realised he had been crying. Lifting his right hand to his face, he wiped his eyes quickly, trying in vain to hide his tears from her. Softly she tightened her grip on his arm, as though to comfort him. Nodding and smiling, she released his arm before walking away toward the castle. Turning to walk after her, he smiled slightly, she was wonderful, something truly special.<p>

Later on that day, when it was clear Eamon was not going to wake up, Isolde had asked the Warden for help again. In his desperation to wake his brother, and in his hope that Redcliffe could be restored, Teagan had joined her in her plea. He could tell the Warden was tired of them, perhaps even surprised that they had the audacity to request yet more help...and yet she had smiled, if only faintly, and agreed to seek out Genetivi in Denerim.  
>After several weeks had passed, he had begun to lose hope of ever seeing her again. He knew she had been busy with the Blight, and her Grey Warden treaties...perhaps she had given up on their quest...or perhaps...perhaps she had been attacked again by Loghain's men. It was thoughts like these that kept him awake at night, and the memory of her smiling that stayed with him while he dreamed. It was strange, to spend so long thinking about someone he had only met a handful of times. It was the circumstances of their meeting, he had concluded - the rush of emotions he had experienced during the attack on the village and castle had led him to grow attached to the person who had arrived to help him. Things made sense that way, and he felt better, less guilty, for worrying more about her wellbeing than his own brother's.<br>It was thoughts and theories like these that kept Teagan occupied, in between organising the soldiers and rebuilding the village. Then, one day, a letter arrived from Denerim. It was from her, Raine, updating him on her mission. She had been sent on a wild goose chase by a man claiming anothers identity, and wrote angrily about how she had wasted time fighting crazy cultists at the Lake Calenhad docks. He chuckled as he read her angry words - unfitting for a lady noble. She wrote as though she was speaking to a companion, a friend - Teagan grinned to himself - they had had little time to familiarise themselves with each other, and he was glad he had left a good impression on her, as she had on him. Perhaps now that things were getting better in Redcliffe, their next meeting could be a happier one.

He had grinned from ear to ear when she bounded into Eamon's room, holding out a small pouch full of ashes. Her presence was uplifting, if only because he knew she had saved his family once again. He had been informed of her success moments beforehand, and had met her by Eamon's bedside. She remained relatively quiet at first, while her friend - a chantry sister - gushed about their experiences in Andraste's Temple. It was only after Eamon's awakening that he could take the lady aside and talk to her properly.  
>She looked different again today, her hair tied on one side of her head just below her ear, dressed head to toe in brown commoners clothes. Placing her hands on her hips as Teagan addressed her, the waistcoat she wore grew tighter on her waist, accentuating her figure. Teagan shook his head, he had pulled her aside to thank her, not to gape at her body. She told him about the temple, the high dragon, the gauntlet, Haven. She had faced down a dragon for his brother, something he only wished he could do. She reached up to her neck, and pulled a locket out from beneath her shirt. It glimmered in the light, the reflection it created was almost cloudy, yet glistened beautifully.<br>"I met my father in the Gauntlet. We had to face our pasts." She spoke, her voice breaking slightly. Teagan was reminded of her own loss, and how no one had reached out to help her.  
>"My lady..." He began, reaching out for the locket himself.<br>"Teagan!"  
>Isolde had interrupted them, Eamon had been awake for some time now, and his mind had clarity enough to understand what had gone on over the past month. Teagan nodded after her, before turning back to Raine.<br>"I'm sorry, my lady, perhaps we can finish this discussion later?"  
>She had smiled graciously and nodded, and told him that she had planned to visit the village for supplies anyway. Teagan was relieved, after everything she had done for his family, the last thing he had wanted to do was cast her out. He watched as she approached her friends and left the castle. Eamon was waiting, he had a lot to tell him.<p>

That had been earlier in the day, and Teagan now awaited the lady's return to the castle. Perhaps now that Eamon was awake, things could begin to head in the right direction.  
>Pouring himself a glass of wine, Teagan stepped toward the suit of armour he had set up in the hall. He'd had it commissioned just for her, as a thank you for everything she had done. She'd given so much for him - sold her armour, battled dragons and her own inner demons - it was the least he could do...and, perhaps now they could talk about other things. She had no doubt noticed his longing stares, he sighed. It had been over a month since they had first met, and she had rarely left his mind since, even though they had known little about each other. They got on well, and on one occassion he had even openly admitted that had they met on different terms, things would have been different between them. Taking a large gulp from his wine, he pondered on that thought. Perhaps things could be different from now on?<br>Ofcourse, she had the blight to contend with...but he would wait for her, fight beside her even. Placing his glass on a nearby table, Teagan walked toward the armour in front of him. It was small, something she would not be able to share around throughout her group, something only for her. He wanted to make her something special, something that might one day have the same kind of legacy that her Warden Commander armour once had.

"I got it when we went to the Lake, when those stupid cultists tried to trap you!"

A familiar voice echoed in the corridor. Teagan turned toward the door quickly, it was Alistair, although by the footsteps he could tell he was not alone. She was back.

Stepping towards him, her cheeks flushed pink, her teeth beaming white, she looked beautiful as ever, and yet, as always - she looked different.

Almost arm in arm with Alistair, she was clad in her armour - the old armour she had worn when they first met - only today she stood proud, strong. Teagan's eyes followed her small frame, resting on her face as she tucked a strand of hair behind the rose she had place above her ear. She smiled brightly, glancing up at Alistair, before waving playfully at Teagan.

Teagan smiled back, this time a smile tinged with sadness. He was too late.

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><p>I really hope you enjoyed that ^^ I'm a big Alistair fan, but I think the Teagan conversations are very cute, he seems to question quite openly "what if", and it was an interesting thing to think and write about.<p> 


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